


O Desolate Waters (L.7 Temporary Work Title)

by Depraved Necromancer (DragonaireAbsolvare)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: 18th Century, Abduction, Angst, Colonialism, Escape, Evil Voldemort (Harry Potter), Fluff, Gen, Help, Hurt/Comfort, Imperialism, Implied/Referenced Torture, Implied/Referenced Underage Prostitution, Imprisonment, Islands, Kidnapping, Kindness, Military, Non-Sexual Slavery, Pirates, Prostitute Harry Potter, Sane Voldemort (Harry Potter), Unrequited Love, royal navy - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-18
Updated: 2021-03-18
Packaged: 2021-03-27 11:34:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30122127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DragonaireAbsolvare/pseuds/Depraved%20Necromancer
Summary: O desolate waters, o weeping seas.Witness the blood staining thy shoresAnd drink them clean.Buccaneers sink the galley carrying a victorious regiment back to Britain, and General Lord Malfoy is taken prisoner.--------------This is not a work of sexual context. There will be no 'kinky' stuff, so if you're reading for those, this is fair warning.This fic will be morbid and cruel. But it will also be hurt/comfort, feelings, angst and coping- of kindness and love and what being kind means in a setting where it is so very rare.
Relationships: Lucius Malfoy & Harry Potter, Lucius Malfoy & Salazar Slytherin, Lucius Malfoy/Harry Potter
Kudos: 4





	O Desolate Waters (L.7 Temporary Work Title)

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Enraptured](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20241763) by [Quillbreaker](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quillbreaker/pseuds/Quillbreaker). 
  * Inspired by [Corsair](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/778752) by Minami Fuuko, Misono Erii. 



> Inspired by Quillbreaker's Enraptured, but I daresay it's not the exact thing.
> 
> For one, it's not romantic pirate-feels.  
> This is a different sort of 'dark' fic from [The Orchard](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25919140/chapters/62993677) or [RDN](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29636322) or [Unbalanced Scales.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28013280)
> 
> There will be mentions of torture, physical slavery and child-prostitution, but nothing explicit.  
> If you've read my [Scales of Desperation](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27619583) then you know exactly what I'm talking about. Similar fic.
> 
> I've also tried to get it as historically accurate as possible without compromising on its dystopian quality.

This was not how Lucius had pictured his end.

He had always thought he would die on the battlefield, surrounded by fallen bodies and crimson blood, thundering hoof-beats in the distance, a chaotic clamour of shots, screams and clashing blades ringing in the air and the stench of gunpowder and burning flesh soiling his last breath.

Or perhaps, he would have died in old age, arthritic legs and all, in a warm bed by the fire, surrounded by rosy-cheeked grandchildren and the doctor, and he would then be laid to rest in the family graveyard. He would be decked out in his bright red uniform, lapel covered in decorations for valour and service campaigns, and there would be rifles fired when he was lowered.

Either way, the Earl of Wiltshire had expected to die with honour.

Not like this.

Not wrapped in rags and locked in a filthy brig, reeking of brine and rot and mould, tattered breeches damp with sea and urine and arms shackled behind his back. They had taken his sword and his muskets and stripped him down to the bare minimum, tying him up like a slave to be transported.

Two months ago, Lord Lucius Malfoy had been sailing back from a successful campaign in the Caribbean islands, driving away the Spanish and capturing several key ports and towns. They’d brought along two frigates as an escort, red-crossed white sails a stark warning to any ambitious seamen eyeing possible loot.

It had been sunset, and half the skies were dark.

The schooners approached from the darker side, near-invisible in the inky horizon. The galley’s crew hadn’t seen them in time, and when they did, it was too late to outsail them. Then there was cannon fire, tremendous, ear-splitting shots and the sound of splintering wood, the sickening crunch of bodies flattened against the deck and the rapid firing of musket after musket.

Their frigates barely held against the ten, heavily equipped pirate-ships that surrounded them, agile and sturdy, led by a decadent Man O’ War with moss green sails and a crested black flag- a serpent emerging from a skull.

_Pirates!_

The Naval officer in charge of the galley gasped. Their vessel had very little to call defence and the dragoons and light infantry she was transporting specialised in fighting on _land._

“I take it you know of them?” Lucius asked, casting a wary eye at the pirates’ Man O’ War.

“Hardly anyone sails across the Atlantic without learning to be wary of these buccaneers, Sir. The Horcrux and her cursed flag is a sight to avoid.”

And so it, was. Lord Voldemort, the self-titled King of the Caribbean buccaneers, hopped down onto the bow of his ship and signalled the master gunner to open fire. The Horcrux made her way between the two frigates, seventy-four cannons blasting the latter hulls to smithereens. The buccaneers’ schooners had surrounded their galley, lines were thrown and pirates were leaping into the single-decked oarship from all directions.

Lucius took over, drawing his sword and commanding the men to charge. They fought as well as they could in the few available square yards of deck, before the pirates began overpowering them. Most of the military tactics they had been trained in executing went overboard in the middle of a direct confrontation. Still, the army had more men; they would just have to win with sheer brute force.

The general was a split second late in noticing the movements of the Horcrux; his sword slashed at the neck of a pirate and was about to pierce into the heart of another when he found himself face-to-face with a cannon.

Blood drained from his face and instinct had him ducking from the red-hot cannonball that crashed into an upturned jolly boat.

The Horcrux was right beside the galley, and the attacking pirates had shifted their positions away from the line of fire. Lucius signalled to Lieutenant Daubert, and together, they had tried to switch positions with the pirates, cleverly manipulating the rogues as human shields. The pirate flagship stopped firing when they realised they were slaughtering their own men.

Voldemort and his crew leapt down the gangway and began to engage in battle.

This latter crew was nothing like the pirates the army had just fought. The pirate-king’s men fought like trained mercenaries, who began to hack away at the royal army, man by man.

When it was clear they were losing, Lieutenant Daubert turned to Lucius and saluted respectfully. “It was an honour serving beside you, Lord Malfoy.” He raised the pistol to his temple and nodded once more. “I have lived a free man, and I will die a free man. May the Heavens forgive me.”

Daubert pulled the trigger and fell into the sea, a splatter of red that would go unnoticed in the inky currents, disappearing into the froth.

There was no time to pay respects to the officer who had served under him for nearly two decades and a half, for Lucius found himself engaged in battle with the only female pirate in the Horcrux. The quartermaster fought with relish, madness in her eyes, and Lucius found himself disliking the woman on principle. He grimaced at the vulgarity that spewed from her mouth and let himself take a hit- her sword sliced his chest, but the wound was shallow enough for him to move around- and seized the opportunity of closer range to sink his sabre into her belly.

An enraged cry ensued from behind, and the boatswain leapt to murder the man who had wounded his wife. Lucius fired his pistols at him before attacking with his sword, and by that time, he had caught Voldemort’s eye. The pirate king joined the fray, cutting down Lucius’ men and clearing a path, and when their captain appeared, the two pirates stepped back, letting their king take on the general.

Lucius was no match for the pirate king.

It was the truth.

Voldemort fought like a beast from the seafarers’ legends, and Lord Malfoy was soon reduced to cowardly moves than cunning ones.

Eventually, he realised the buccaneers had won, and the few men fighting had chosen suicide over slavery. Most of the remaining soldiers had surrendered, and the two frigates had already sunk, mere slivers of deck and broken masts visible under the churning waters.

The pirate king was visibly bored, and when his boatswain and quartermaster attacked Lucius together, the general let them. His sword dropped from bleeding fingers, and Lucius let himself be manhandled towards the rest of the bound soldiers.

The soldiers were then locked up in the pirates’ brigs, and they watched as the remains of the naval oarship was looted and then set on fire.

It was two months of living amidst rotting floorboards and festering injuries and stale bread once every two days, and when Lucius planted his bare, pallid feet on earth, he felt a bloom of relief under the hopelessness and defeat.

They were still in the Caribbean islands, betrayed by the brilliant white sand that stood starkly against cerulean seas and the dense growth of tropical palms and mangroves. The sun hovered swelteringly overhead, and the sudden rise of cliffs shading them felt like a small kindness.

Cliffs.

Lord Malfoy’s grey eyes darted about, charting the terrain.

They were in a cove, in the middle of a group of tall, jagged looking islands. The sea-spires were closely packed, the water was shallow and rocky in the seabed, seaweeds tangling about the rudders- any ship with a large draft would have difficulty manoeuvring itself through. The pirates’ Man O’ War was no different, but she had been sailing through these waters for years.

Even then, a tremor would occasionally run through the floorboards, when the hull lightly scraped against extremely shallow waters.

The ships pulled into a cave, the insides of which had been converted into a harbour. The imprisoned soldiers were herded through a forest trail and into a town, where they were stripped of all clothing save to cover their modesty and chained to posts.

One of the pirates spat on Lucius, tearing his powdered wig off. “Don’tca like the taste of yer own medicine?”

Lord Malfoy gritted his teeth and knelt there, under the searing sun, and slowly began to understand how the plantation slaves must have felt. The humiliation, the rage and sheer hatred- respected lords and chiefs of their land, kneeling subserviently while being treated like livestock.

He had taken on assignments in both the Far East and the West, cutting down tribes and kingdoms to plant the British flag on their bloody corpses. He had brought victory after victory in his expeditions and was supposed to be back in English soil by now. He would have been celebrated as a hero on his return. Narcissa and young Draco were waiting-

Oh lord, Draco.

Lucius could not bear the thought that he might not see his son again.

No, he _would._

That had been the point of surrendering, instead of dying a respectable death. To survive.

Malfoys were extremely proud, but the one thing they valued more than their pride was survival. To adapt, survive and worm their way to the top of whatever condition God had put them in.

The pirates put him to work in clearing pathways around the islands. It was essentially quarry work, picking at large rocks on the shallows and making them deep enough for the Horcrux to pass through safely.

There were several of them- some merchants and traders, other pirates, debtors, captured military officers- from all the seafaring countries of Europe. At first, Lucius was far too proud to talk to them, but the isolation drove him mad. Other soldiers of his regiment had been taken to work elsewhere, so that they would not look up to their leader and plot mutinies.

It was an elderly Spaniard who approached him first.

His name was Salazar, and he had been a medic in the Armada before being captured and pressed into service as the surgeon in the Horcrux. That was long ago, and when his age began to wear him down on sea expeditions, Voldemort had no more use of his services, and had him thrown out of the ship. Having nowhere to go, the elderly man had continued to labour in the Îles Morsmordre to earn his food.

It was custom, apparently, for a slave to earn his freedom through years of service- after which they could continue to work and receive a few silver pieces for their trouble. Or they could try to escape and no one would stop them- being _free men,_ of course- and get eaten by the sharks or wash up on some stranded island.

Salazar stroked his wispy, white beard, a steely look in his eyes. “I wouldn’t suggest swimming away, señor.”

Lucius tore his gaze off the blue horizon, startled.

“He chose his stronghold in this cove for a reason- nothing goes in, nothing comes out. The currents flow into the bay, so swimming farther than those _cancerberos_ there is near impossible.” The Spaniard waved his bone-thin hands at the two hulking limestone islands at the farthest edge of the archipelago. They loomed over the narrow strait like ominous gatekeepers, high cliffs and covered in dense forests.

“And besides, even if you get to Les Cerbères, there’s nowhere to go- there isn’t another island around for miles.” The man sounded like he had been speaking with experience, and Lucius smiled wryly at him.

“What of ships, then?”

Salazar shook his head. “You might have noticed that we’re clearing rock because even _their_ ships can’t get through without breaking something.”

**Author's Note:**

> You're welcome to join my Lucarry Server! Promises fluff, angst, crack, art and everything else!  
> <https://discord.gg/WuT6S5Ra9F>


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